


and they both died happily just once

by Finnie



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: fairytales - Freeform, gallifrey is fucked up, happily ever after???????, or more specifically, time lord vs human bedtime stories, what is that???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 01:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12446024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnie/pseuds/Finnie
Summary: gallifreyan fairytales are always tales of monsters.





	and they both died happily just once

once upon a time.

.

gallifreyan fairytales are always tales of monsters.

the nursery rhymes and lullabies sing about things of dark and terror and shadows, horrible and oozing with death. there are no good heroes to fight them, only fools who try and fail, either because they're meddling or because they're rebellious or because they didn't listen to their elders. there are stories of children who wander far from their home and end up lost in a forest that's like an ocean, deeper and darker the farther in you go, filled with elder gods and things that made your neck shiver. there are tales about show-offs who interfere with time and end up pulled into temporal fires, and worst of all, the stories of those who try to bend and outsmart the rules. they end up in spaceless places, in dark painful pits with no stars, condemned to eternal pain where they can't catch as much as the slightest sliver of light.

the stories always end badly, and the morale is always that all roads not yet taken lead straight to hell. it's also that the things you try to fix usually tend to turn into self-fulfilled prophecies, and either way you'll get hurt.

gallifrey is a dark place, at night.

.

you don't repeat the stories to your children.

you don't have the heart to, haunted by the memories of pulling a comforter over your head at night, sniffling quietly into the matress. but your spouse does, as the customs say. they sit upright at the children's bedside, and recite the tales in their even, low voice, even as you stare at them unapprovingly. those same words and endings etched into them, you, and every other gallifreyan. a warning, a law, a culture of ominous things woven into dark fairytales.

later you hold the children overnight.

.

a lot later, after you've ran away with arkytior and settled on earth, she grabs hold of a book from one of the pretty, lacquored shelves in the children's section of the library. it's a small book, brown with yellowed paper and flipped through many times. on the cover, in gilded letters, it says _grimm fairy tales._

„it's earth folklore,“ she explains. „rather peculiar. _cinderella. snow white. the sleeping beauty?_ “

„haven't you had enough of fairytales for a lifetime?“ you say softly. though she looks grown, and her eyes are serious, arkytior is still a child by the time lords' standards, and the age of nighttime terrors is still fresh to her memory.

„but they're not dark at all!“ she says eagerly. „they talk about good and valiant and righteous people, and good always wins in the end.“

„does it?“ you frown. „are you sure those are fairytales?“

she grins. „would you care to hear one?“

you nod.

.

„once upon a time,“ arkytior starts, the brown book open on her knees.

you blink. „what does that mean?“

„it's what it always says in the beginning. i think it means that it was a long time ago, but also maybe tomorrow. it means that something is bound to happen.“  


„once upon a time,“ you repeat, and smile.

arkytior reads one story out loud to you, and then, slowly, sitting in armchairs across one another, you work through the whole book.

there is one sentence in the end of each story that she doesn't understand, so she doesn't read it. she was told to believe that it's a lie.

.

a long time passes that you don't remember the earth tales.

one night, one long night, you're crouching in a sky trench, surrounded by metal rubble and squalor. you hold on uselessly to a gun, and flinch whenever there's an explosion sounding from the outside. every time you do, in the corner of your peripheral vision, the master does so in unison with you.

in the war, every night is long, and seconds are like eons.

another explosion booms, louder than the others, closer, and the trenches shake. you gasp, and hear a panicked hiss on your right. everything shakes at the hinges and for a moment you're sure that you're going to die here, buried and gone.

„talk,“ the master says sharply, an intake of a breath rather than an order, and you search his eyes, cloudy and unfocused but still with a certain edge to them (and dark like black holes) for any sign of reminiscence.

_talk, koschei would always say, while you lay together in the thickets of red grass, ran away from the citadel and staring at the sky. and theta sigma talked, about anything, everything and nothing, made-up things and stupid things and things that made them both sad._

„once upon a time,“ you start.

„what?“ the master turns to you suddenly, and you abruptly remember that you're not on earth anymore, and that he's not an earth thing. he's like you, raised on the stories of shadows and murder.

„it's just how you start stories,“ you say. „it's an earth thing.“

„should've thought so,“ he huffs, but doesn't stop you talking. „is it a sad story?“

„no,“ you say softly. „it doesn't have to be, if you don't want it.“

the tips of his lips twist into a bitter smile.

.

„and what happens after the mermaid returns to sea foam?“ the master whispers. he's leaning on metal, rubbing circles across his muddy and bloodied face.

„nothing,“ you say. „she stays with the waves, and the prince marries another woman.“

„you lied to me,“ he says flatly. „it was a sad story.“

„but it's also beautiful,“ you insist. „the being and the wanting and the beauty and the inevitable, a life in small, and then back to the beginning of the cycle. waves to waves, ashes to ashes, the longing of a lovesick heart poured into a story. have you seen the statue of the little mermaid on earth? she's half-drenched in water, perpetually frozen in the motion of returning to sea foam. it's sad and it's beautiful.“

„it's not,“ the master hisses. „it's dying. you were supposed to be the one that hates endings.“

„it never ends. i never got around to reading the last sentence. maybe she makes it out, somehow.“

„sentimental sap.“

„the story tells us that you don't need to own things to love them.“

_you don't need to own the universe, you'd said to him once, just see it. that's ownership enough._

„spare me your allegories.“ the master snaps. he tugs at the brooch that you gave him, as if he considers ripping it off just to prove a point, but he satisfies with unpinning it and shoving it into his pocket. „did you think that it would move me? face it, i don't have it in me.“

„i didn't get it at first either,“ you murmur, and the world shakes as another explosion goes off.

.

„tell us a story, doctor,“ rose mumbles tiredly. you have a set of heads on your shoulders: jack on the left, rose on the right.

„i don't know any,“ you shrug.

rose's tongue catches between her teeth, and a little crease splits her forehead. „you're a thousand years old. you must know some.“

„i'm rubbish at storytelling.“

 „tell us anyway,“ she smiles. jack says nothing, but you know that he's alert and listening.

„right;“ you shift and sigh. „there was once a planet with no stars.“

( _that makes no sense,_ jack protests. _shhhh,_ rose silences him.)

„there once was this planet,“ you repeat. „and there lived a boy and his friend who heard about stars in old stories from travellers who came and went, and dreamt of them. the boy made his friend swear to show him the stars, every single one in the universe. the boy's friend knew that it was impossible, but he promised him anyway.“

the tips of rose's lips curl into a smile.

„and they found out where the nearest star was, and they travelled far to see it. the boy arrived when the star was being born, and he saw it in all of its glory, the skin of the universe splitting open, and it was beautiful.“

( _what about the friend,_ she asks eagerly. _shhh,_ jack hisses smugly.)

„but the friend arrived too late, and by the time he got there, the star was dying. he saw it twist and turn and burn, and in that moment he understood entropy and how all things were dying. and he thought, he thought that nothing made sense anymore. he thought that there was no point to seeing and loving things when they're going to be over. so he burned them, because he knew that they were going to burn anyway.“

(rose's breath catches in her throat. _what happened next?_ )

„the boy held his friend to his promise, and asked him to show him all of the stars. but the friend said, _i don't want to look at the stars, because all they do is disappear. you know it, because every star around our planet died._ and he left.

but then they grew up, and they were called to war. the war was long and dark, and they saw no stars as they fought. in the dark, they forgot that there was ever anything else.  but the boy gave his friend a gift, because he still loved him and thought that he might change his mind. but the friend just pocketed the gift, and didn't say anything. one day there was a battle and they were separated, and the friend ended up stranded alone, cornered by the enemies, and he thought that nothing could save him.

( _did the boy come to rescue him?_ asks jack, pretending not to be interested in how the story ends. you smile.)

„i don't know what the friend did and didn't think about,“ you continue. „maybe he was reminiscing their youth. cause he suddenly remembered the gift the boy gave him, and how it was still in his pocket, and he took it out and unwrapped it. do you want to know what it was?“

( _what,_ they say at the same time.)

„it was a piece of a star. a piece of a dying star, frozen in the fragment of a second, and even if it had been decaying, it now shone so bright that the friend found his way out of the dark. the boy had hoped to show him that there was beauty in things even if they're passing, if only you know how – and when – to look for it.“

roses blinks sleepily. „and the friend saw it?“

you smile, but it's a little smile that brinks on watery. „perhaps he did, sometime. or he has yet to.“

you pull them closer, and the tardis gives a sympathetic whirr.

out of the blue, rose asks, „did they live happily ever after?“

„happily ever after?“ you frown. „nobody lives forever, not even time lords. that's phisically impossible, a conundrum of timestreams. it would mean all the way to the twisty end. even if they lived to see it, they wouldn't be happy.“

rose chuckles, and then sniffles. „didn't mean litterally. it's just a thing, you know. a thing you say in the stories.“

„yeah,“ jack cuts in. „thay say that in my time, too. look, doc, it survived all the way through millenia. it's a nice thing, isn't it, happy? just to get kids happy before they go to sleep.“

„really?“ that takes you aback. earth customs never fail to confuse you. „why would they say 'forever' when they know that it's impossible? it's just going to disappoint them later.“

„no,“ rose smiles. „we know that it's not really forever. but it just means happy, for a time. that's nice, innit?“

you rest your head on top of hers.

.

„doctor?“ jack mumbles when he knows that rose is asleep.

„mm?“

„was it really a piece of a star?“

„of sorts, yeah,“ you huff. „it was a brooch carved from dark star alloy, sort of a thing extracted from dwarf stars, hard enough to cut through steel. and he didn't really find his way out. he used it to slaughter the entire army and run.“  


jack makes a humming sound.

 

„doctor,“ he says again, just as you're about to go.

„yes?“

„what was his name?“

you shift from foot to foot, reluctantly. „that hardly matters. I'm not sure if he even remembers it.“

.

„ah. and then the bomb goes off and i'm falling, right? in fifteen seconds i'm going to be in the vacuum of space, right? you know how i got away? hey, i just had a very nice thought about the word vacuum. i do love latin. and julius caesar. wonder what he's doing now. we should pay him a visit sometimes.“

amy blinks at you owlishly. „okaaaaaay. not quite what i expected from a bedtime story. very intense, though.“

„i liked the bit with the mushroom aliens,“ rory adds. the two of them are curled in the bottom bunk bed, and you're leaning down from the top one. amy yawns.

„tell us a proper story,“ she demands. „i want to hear a space bedtime story. do they have alien princes in distress and princesses in white spaceships?“

„nah, you wouldn't like gallifreyan fairytales.“ you shrug it off. „my kids never did. hated them myself. they're terribly pessimistic. curiosity killed the cat type of stuff.“

rory scoffs. „you don't seem the type to scare kids into behaving nicely. did you also scare them with the bogeyman?“

„nah, that was my spouse, not me.“ you chuckle. „i'd have read them the grimm fairy tales if i had them, you know. 's my favorite book of all times.“

„ooh!“ amy's eyes light up. „i loved those! used to have an old copy, falling apart on the seams. i slept with it underneath my pillow.“

„so did i,“ your eyes crinkle. „humans. such a lovely, hopeful species. where the most civilized civilization in the universe terrifies their younglings into behaving, you fill their heads with dreams. you never know what's out there 'til you run away! you never know if the frog is a prince until you kiss it! you just don't stop, do you? run all the ways! kiss all the frogs!“

that gets both of them laughing.

„ah, ponds, i do love you.“ you lean on the railing. „go on, tell me a story.“

amy clears her throat and starts off dramatically – „there was once a beautiful maiden-„

„but,“ you pause her. „there's a trick to it. don't say the last sentence, not out loud. keeps the story going on forever.“

„but _doctor,_ “ she protests. „i like the last sentence. it's the one that…“ she trails off when she sees your face, and smiles. „there was once a beautiful maiden-„

.

„i'm sorry i couldn't give it to you, you know. the happily ever after.“

„oh doctor,“ river shakes her head, sends blond curls swishing left and right. „you don't understand, do you? everybody knows that everybody dies. but happily ever after doesn't mean forever. it just means a _time._ happily."

this breaks your hearts just a little, and you lean in to kiss her cheek.

„and the damsel thanks her knight with a kiss,“ she muses, and you're happy.

you don't both live happily ever after. you don't even both live – everybody knows that everybody dies – but you were happy.

.

„no, no, _no._ “ missy shakes her head vigorously. „that's not how it happened. you're changing the story to make yourself look cleverer.“

„i'm not!“ you press your lips together. „i vividly remember it happening, and i'll have you know that i saw right through your dirty little schemes.“

„honey,“ missy sighs. „for months and months i showed up every week with a different pseudonym that was always an anagram of _the master_ and a face mask and you bought it every time.“

bill erupts into laughter. „oh my god. that sounds like you.“

„i was rather disappointed by your slowness, though.“ missy sticks her chin out. „i'm like, dropping hints that i'm the master. _i'm the master._ “

you scoff.

„and then? what happened then?“ bill bounces in her armchair.

„i'll tell you what happened.“ missy rolls over on the piano dramatically. „we battled across time and space and althrough i was ultimately forced to retreat, i left behind me a conundrum of ash and fire.“

„no,“ it's your turn to correct her. „the daleks betrayed you and you ran to me yelping to help you defeat them.“

her face flushes. „shut up.“

„ah,“ bill wipes the tears of laughter out the corners of her eyes. „i'm serious, your stories are the worst. honestly, it's a wonder that you two are still alive.“

„and the doctor whooped the daleks' arses, and the master went to prison.“ you conclude the story solemnly. „and they lived happilly ever after.“

„what?“ missy's eyebrows furrow, and you suddenly remember that you never did get around to explaining that bit to storytelling.

„it's just a thing you say in the end of a story to make sure it's a good one.“ you explain. „earthy thing.“

„how typical for humans,“ missy scoffs. „the delusions of infinity.“

„it's not a delusion,“ you explain „humany-wumany. lived doesn't neccessarily mean lived, and forever doesn't mean forever. sometimes forever means just a chunk of time, you know. just a bit. it's _happily_ that matters. a little bit happily. „

„silly,“ she shrugs.

.

 ~~and they both lived~~ happily ~~ever after.~~


End file.
